[F] I (F45) had a secret affair for 8 months. It revitalized my sex life with my husband [PART VIII: Falling Action]

On goes the saga I started here: https://old.reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/u33z2w/f_i_f45_had_a_secret_affair_for_8_months_it/.

In the weeks after our Easter getaway Keith and I started seeing each other less often. It was obvious he was losing interest, just like me. There was no conversation about this, but as far as I know we both knew and let it fizzle out. I mean, we still sometimes ended up at his place for a quickie, or a not so quickie, but it was maybe a few times in three weeks, then once a month. Meanwhile my sex life with Scott had gradually roared back into something like our earlier, pre-kid levels. I found it much easier now to initiate, and Scott was always happy (no, thrilled) to oblige. Soon he was initiating too. I wish I could say we started experimenting or that we became better communicators. Or that we were having sex five days a week. But no, we just got our appetites back and maybe twice or three times a week we had some great, simple but fun sex.

What brought things with Keith to a definitive end? A close call. In the eight months that Keith and I were sleeping together there had been a few, maybe five moments when my alibi or explanation hadn’t seemed weak. I don’t think Scott noticed, but there were a few clumsy moments that could have been bad if Scott had been a more suspicious person. But now, as the school year was ending and the affair was naturally fizzling out anyway, I was sure it was all safe and good.

Teachers at my school have a tradition on the last day of work before the summer. This isn’t the last day when students are there, which is always a Thursday in late June. The staff have to come in on the Friday after that to clean up their classrooms, deal with final paperwork, and so on. After work, most of the staff head off to a patio for drinks. Things can get quite … messy. I don’t drink a lot, but on this night every year it’s a bit of a piss-up. Imagine Dazed and Confused, but about the teachers instead of the students.

So that night Scott didn’t expect me home anytime soon, though I promised him I’d be there not too late to have sex. We’d let things go a bit with the stress of the year’s end, and we had promised each other that tonight we would get back into it. At the moment I had kind of forgotten I was going out with my coworkers, and I definitely didn’t want to back out of the plan. Anyway, it didn’t seem like an issue. I’d party with the colleagues, get home late and drunk, and Scott would be there waiting. We’d done it before.

This year, the final Friday was very hot and humid, and everyone was sweaty and shiny. We had all come to work by bike. This is no night to drive home. Despite the heat, people were happy and excited, and we rode down as a huge gang of cyclists to our local pub. We took over a corner of the patio, drinking fast and hard, laughing loudly and acting like college kids.

The difference this year was that Keith was with us, and we soon ended up sitting next to each other. Feeling his bare knee against mine was electrifying, as if we were touching for the first time, as if we hadn’t already fucked dozens and dozens of times throughout the year. But there was something that night that felt new and powerful. We didn’t do anything that would give away our secret to our colleagues, but we made it clear to each other that we’d hook up again tonight.

The party moved to another bar, then Keith invited people over to his place. He had a nice backyard he shared with the couple renting the upstairs apartment, but they were either away or asleep (which seems doubtful given how much noise we were making). There were maybe 10 of us still partying at that point. Everything felt free that night, as if I was 25 again. I smoked cigarettes for the first time in more than a decade. I caught myself swearing up a storm, something I don’t usually do. Anyway, it was a good time. At about midnight Scott texted me to tell me he was going to sleep but to wake him up when I got home. He still wanted to do it. He also said I should stay as long as I want. He’d be ready whenever I was back. I considered going home then, but put it off, opened another drink, and got back into the rhythm of the evening.

When I went in for a pee, I felt Keith watch me walk toward the house. And sure enough, he was waiting for me when I was done and snuck into the bathroom with me. We made out like teenagers, clumsily groping each other for about three minutes before separating, our bodies aching with desire. I was sweaty and unmistakably primed for sex. Keith was adjusting his erection as we left the bathroom.

I definitely didn’t want my coworkers to suspect anything so I returned to the backyard first carryinging a new drink. Keith stayed back, rolling a joint. It would have been obvious to everyone if the very idea of me and Keith being together didn’t seem inconceivable. I sat next to the music teacher Nathalie, who was sitting apart from the rest of the group. I didn’t know Nathalie very well, though we’d been teachers in the same smallish school for about three years, and I kind of pitied her for being on her own. As soon as I sat down she started whispering about Keith, telling me how they had started a “thing” a little while back, how it had been very hot at first, but now he was being aloof and weird. I didn’t know what to say, but my reaction to this news surprised me.

I didn’t feel jealous like I did about Erin, which is weird because I knew Nathalie and not Erin. I felt relief, like the solution to everything was for me to pass off Nathalie to Keith and be able to move on without a scene or a rupture. I asked her to tell me about their relationship, which turned out to consist of a few sleepovers on Fridays after work. By this point, Keith had come back out and joined the others. They were passing around the joint. Anyway, Nathalie kept talking, and I kept listening, amazed at my lack of reaction. Even when she told me how good the sex was all I felt was the usual awkwardness of hearing someone you don’t really know tell you intimate details about themselves. I wasn’t angry or hurt, as if her having sex with Keith had nothing to do with me. Maybe it didn’t. She was getting weepy. If Keith didn’t want to be seen with her in front of everyone, she would just go home. I thought it was a good idea. She was sloppy drunk. I called her a cab.

When everyone was gone except me, Keith and I were still outside sharing a cigarette. I asked him to tell me about Nathalie. He was flustered but didn’t try to pretend it hadn’t happened. There was nothing much to tell. He asked me if I was upset, and I said no truthfully, though talking about it with him was different from talking about it with her. It set off a competitive fire in me. I looked at my phone. It was past 2 am. I knew now for sure that it was the end of the affair, so it seemed absolutely necessary that we have one more fuck.

We made it to his bedroom, closed the door for no reason, then Keith hugged me from behind, a hand up the front of my dress. There was a mad energy to our fumbling groping and kissing, as if we both knew this was our last time. Or maybe it was just my need to remind him of how great it was with me. Or both. Anyway, there was no doubt that this was it. We wouldn’t see each other over the summer and who knew where Keith would be posted next year?

We were hurried because I had to get home, where I knew Scott was probably still waiting. Keith went down on me, his whole head under my dress while I sat on the side of the bed, legs wide and head thrown back. I made sure to be loud so he would know exactly what was working. It was all working. After I came, hard, I lay back and pulled Keith onto me and he fucked me firm and slow as I broke down and sobbed. It wasn’t unheard of for me to cry or laugh uncontrollably after orgasming, but this time it made our screwing feel especially intimate. It went on for a while, the sobs and Keith’s whispers in my ear, both dirty and loving, and his kisses on my neck. When Keith told me he was going to cum soon, I told him not to do it inside me though I wanted nothing more. He was surprised, I’d never asked this before, but he didn’t protest when I shimmied down under his body and finished him in my mouth.

The ride home sobered me up a bit. It reminded me of our very first fuck, some eight months earlier. For the first time in ages I felt guilty–though again not regret. I worried that if Scott was still awake and waiting he would sense something. My panties were sopping and I felt that I reeked of semen, though it was probably just the taste lingering in my mouth. I hoped Scott had fallen asleep.

But no, the light was on in our bedroom. I took my time getting ready, brushing my teeth extra hard and splashing myself with cold water. I definitely had a bit of a summery smell, but I could blame that on the heat and the bike ride. Eventually I couldn’t delay any more and I snuck into our room. Scott was in bed, reading.

“I’m so tired,” I said.

“Me too. Let’s just make it a quickie.”

There was no getting out of it. Not that I wanted to. I was strangely aroused, maybe because I hadn’t gotten enough from Keith in our haste. I took off my dress and underwear, Scott got naked. I got into bed and tried to get him to get onto me right away (I would have been ready). But he made to go down on me. I was torn. For one thing, I wanted him to. He’s the best pussy eater I’ve ever known. For another thing, it would be suspicious if I refused. No matter what else we do, Scott always eats me out. Always has. So telling him not to would be suspicious. On the other hand I felt bad, considering Keith had just fucked me less than a hour before. At least I hadn’t let him cum in me. But still…

I told Scott I wanted to fuck right away, but he was already lapping at me. I said I didn’t want him too. That got his attention. Why not? he wanted to know. I stammered like an idiot. I could have just said I was all sweaty from cycling and that would have been enough, but I fumbled big time. Scott got a strange look on his face, and I relented, hoping he’d forget about it. I came within a minute from his tongue and he got on top of me–a position we rarely choose. As we fucked he whispered, “how come you didn’t want me to go down on you?”

Again, I had no good answer. I said something lame like “it felt too intense” which sounded suspicious even to me. As he kept fucking me in silence I wondered what thoughts were going through his head. Was he putting two and two together? Could he possibly guess what had happened? Is it possible he had learned about Keith a while ago and had said nothing? While I was thinking all this I was also, weirdly, building up to yet another orgasm. We came together. Within a few minutes we were both asleep.

The next day, there seemed to be no repercussions. Apart from a raging hangover, that is. Scott didn’t ask again about my weirdness the night before. He didn’t seem preoccupied, sad, depressed, jealous or anything else. This was unexpected after his definite doubts the night before. But nothing. It was so strange I almost wanted to admit everything (well, no, not everything, just last night’s everything–I couldn’t tell him about the full 8 months), but of course I didn’t. I kept my peace. That night I treated Scott to an actual good time, not the previous night’s sloppy guilty drunky sex.

We sometimes do this thing where I immediately get Scott to cum, then he plays with me until he’s ready again and able to last as long as we want. So we sixty-nined lying on our sides, and for maybe the third time ever up to that point, I let him cum in my mouth. While he was recovering, he gave me a long backrub that slowly turned erotic, first with his hands, then with his mouth. By the time I had cum once he was good and hard again. I lay on my stomach and presented myself, inviting him to take me from behind. We’d never done it this way (unless you count spooning sex, which is lovely, but this was a different activity altogether). It was very sexual sex, if that makes sense. It’s hard to explain, but what I mean is this felt like it was driven by our bodies, with that ravenous energy I associate more with a new lover than one I’ve been with for more than 20 years. It was awesome.

And it was an awesome few days that followed. With me done work, and Scott inspired by my initiative, we had another bumper week. By the end of it I had basically pushed Keith and that whole story into the past. I didn’t miss him, nor would I ever really miss him again. Scott and I weren’t able to sustain the energy of those early summer days, but we had definitely got our groove back. Scott started tentatively suggesting new activities, nothing major but still, this felt like a development. And for the first time in our life together I wasn’t immediately defensive or uncomfortable, even if he was suggesting something I wouldn’t go for. It felt great, and natural.

Three years after the end of my relationship with Keith, so about about three years, three and a half years ago, I saw him again in a supermarket. He was with a new girl he introduced to me as his “girlfriend Lisa.” She was much younger than him, let alone me, and hot and stylish. So he had settled down. Strangely, I felt nothing about her, or Keith. We chatted for a few minutes, and no one suggested getting in touch. I even mentioned seeing Keith to Scott when I got home, and he just said “who’s Keith?” And I was, like, yeah, who’s Keith? I don’t want to downplay the good time we had, but looking back it had so much more to do with my own relationship with myself than anyone else. Keith was an attractive, willing participant, but it could have been any other attractive, willing guy. Does that sound awful? I don’t think it is.

Anyway, the encounter with Keith got me thinking about our affair again for the first time in a while. I didn’t brood on it, but it re-awakened the need I had always felt to confide in someone. Eventually that desire led me to a life-writing class taught by a young, charismatic writer called Tobie (not her real name), which eventually led to me putting my story with Keith into words. Learning to write was how I learned to process and reflect on my affair but also my relationship to sex more generally. You could say writing is what got me in touch with myself.

So this is the end of my story with Keith, but there’s more to my self-exploration. I hope to keep it going, though it’s not going to be as much of a story, and more like a series of vignettes. I don’t know if it’ll be as sexy, but I will be going back to some of my earlier sexual experiences, before I was with Scott. I don’t remember them as well, but some of them were pretty exciting.

I hope you’ll stay tuned.

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from Gonewild Stories https://www.reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/uflnzy/f_i_f45_had_a_secret_affair_for_8_months_it/